


No apology because my urge is genuine

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [31]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Dual Identity, F/M, Flashbacks, Milwaukee, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 06:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: She hides the tryst from partners and friends because it's dirty and gross, not because it's a thrilling secret to keep and just like old times. At least that's what Discord tells herself.





	No apology because my urge is genuine

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'fic series "An Eternity in Cheese Country," and here's why - after they were killed by Callisto and Xena, the souls of Strife, Discord, and Deimos were reincarnated in the late 20th century into three humans named Steve, Veronica, and Dave.

"Sorry, Discord."

Apologies from Deimos' mouth are still a shock, even now. It took a good deal of physical threats to wring one out of him when you were gods. But you were older and stronger. You could grab Deimos by the neck and squeeze, lifting him into the air with little effort. The younger the god, the weaker the powers. If Deimos could beat you in a fight, he had put in the work, using his limited cleverness to defeat you. Teleporting was the easiest way for him to cheat, because when you were focused, you could dodge his blasts of fire. Flames licking his fingers like nothing, knocking its victims right off their feet.

 _He killed Poseidon_ , you think. Or was it Hades? Your ancient uncle's blood red blasts much stronger. It wasn't on purpose, of course. But the significance of this doesn't hit you until Wisconsin, Morpheus torturing you night after night with flashes of your deaths. In the moment, when Xena deflected that fireball, you didn't know anything but blind rage. How was Deimos strong enough that day? This weak man lying pinned beneath you, the panting victim of your latest vigorous assault.

"You're gonna have to make it up to me," you reply, your breath just as short, body just as drained of energy.

Sex wasn't this exhausting back then.

Deimos runs warm hands up your torso, grasping your naked breasts. You still feel that desperate, nagging need within your center. He came first, the idiot.

You climb off him, collapsing beside him in the too-small bed. Beds were bigger back then, too. Your first action, while he removes the condom, is to rub your clitoris. You miss the feel of him inside you already, and it's disgusting, this lust you feel for your stupid, ugly nephew. These feelings waxed and waned over your twenty-five-year affair and they’re back in full force now. An affair you started because you missed Strife and Ares, needing something familiar to hold onto.

And wanted to fuck a man without breaking his pelvis.

There’s no danger of that because you're both humans now, and Deimos is taller and stronger and he can lift you up quite easily, throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed. You can't break him but you can try. Draw sex out until he begs for you to make him come. Edging, they call it. It's fun when it isn't you.

"Touch me," you say, and twenty-five years ago the thought of this would make your skin crawl, but at some point you gave up and figured a friend with benefits was what you both needed. No one else on Olympus would fuck either of you.

You have options now, like Dennis. A human man who may even grow to love you, who could give you a normal life. Who doesn't believe your stories, and maybe Morpheus would let you forget them too.

"Come on, hurry up and touch me!" you snap, and Deimos has disposed of the condom and rolled over to caress your breasts, moving south to your clit with familiar fingers. He’s a partner, you’re ashamed to say, you actually missed while Dennis was making love to you on his office desk.

"Do it like this," you say, placing your hand over his to guide his motions. He starts to get the hang of it and you let go.

Your eyes are shut and you try to ignore his heavy breathing in your ear. Your approaching climax is arousing him, getting him hard again. He's watching you, another thing you wish you didn't like so much.

"Inside," you pant, and he inserts two fingers. "Faster." Deimos follows your instructions, which he never did before but does now. Maybe he fingers Cherile, maybe she lets him be on top. Maybe Cherile lets out high pitched squeals like a yippy puppy. Your own moans are low, primal.

"That's my girl," he says, voice low and deep, and you hate him for it. You hate that it gives you that extra kick. "Come for me like a good girl.”

"Shut the fuck up," you reply, but he says it again and you shiver, back arching.

"You're such a good girl, Discord. That's it, almost there baby, come on."

"That's not helping," you lie, opening your eyes to glare at him. He's grinning, now, and holding back a laugh. Like always, like he used to. Your discomfort amusing him. He fucks you harder with his fingers, and craving release, you help him finish the job by rubbing your clit.

He's giggling when you climax, the asshole, smirking smugly, as if the sex had been great, as if he hadn't come in only five minutes. You catch your breath, body relaxing. Nothing matters for a moment, only pleasure, but after a minute reality returns and you frown, getting out of bed to head for the bathroom.

Deimos sits up, propped by pillows, hands behind his head.

"Italian?" he asks. "Or Chinese?" You roll your eyes.

"Strife and I made plans."

Deimos frowns, a flash of jealousy.

"What plans?"

"Duke's,” you say casually. “Or Miss Katie's."

You take a robe from the closet. Cinching the belt and pulling your hair up with a scrunchie, you add, "You're not invited."

Deimos leaps up from the bed, and it's one of those times you're reminded of how small you are beside him.

"Why the hell not?"

You shake your head, ducking the question. "I gotta take a piss." But he puts his hand on the door, holding it shut.

"Stay here with me instead,” he says, trying to sound seductive. It doesn't work, so his eyebrows lift and he tries a different, more pleading tone. "Please?"

You really want to talk to Strife tonight about all this, about Deimos and Xena and Poseidon, alone. And the two men should meet under more formal circumstances than karaoke night. He’d tease you endlessly if he knew that’s where you were going.

"What about Cherile?"

Deimos backs away, reminded of his commitment to the fragile human, who could probably ruin both your lives if she found out. Dennis understands your connection, but Deimos' young lover wouldn't.

You only feel slightly bad about fucking him in her bed.

"What about her?" he asks nervously.

"She's coming back from practice soon," you point out. The girl is a guitarist in a punk band that gets paid very little to play very badly. "And you don't want her catching us like this."

Deimos probably doesn't care if you're caught, he never did before, not after Pheme told everyone on Olympus about your shameful affair. Aphrodite caught wind of the arrangement, and because she both hated and wished the best for her jackass of a son, she teased you at any and every opportunity but never stopped you from continuing to fuck him.

_"I can see he makes you happy."_

_"That's a filthy lie,"_ you told her.  _"He's a means to an end, is all."_

_"You keep telling yourself that."_

One time you got drunk on Dionysus' wine and explained you only missed Strife and wanted to get back at Ares. Two things you never should have confessed, but were still better excuses than falling in love, because war gods didn't love. And you fought, and he hated you, and you hated him, and the fucking was rough and desperate and you didn't enjoy it one bit.

 _"I can tell when you're lying, Discord,"_  she whispered one day.  _"And I know my son."_  Aphrodite gave you a knowing nod and a supportive smile.

_"You don't know shit."_

_"I'm his mother."_  As if that made the bimbo psychic. Deimos didn't love you. He doesn't love you now.

Deimos reaches for your face and you flinch, just slightly. His smile dips into a frown, but he brushes some loose strands of hair from your forehead anyway. He opens his mouth to say something like it doesn't matter, he doesn't care, she's just a human, he only wants you.

But he just nods, saying, "Okay fine, whatever you say," then backs up to let you leave.

On your way to the bathroom, Deimos slaps your ass. You turn to glare at him, but there's no true anger in it, and he giggles.

"Sorry, Discord. Couldn't resist."

Deimos never used to apologize, but it's cute, and your stupid ugly nephew isn't supposed to be cute, messy blonde hair sticking up everywhere, face and chest still red from the exertion of your lovemaking.

You sigh and roll your eyes.

"I'll bring you back some leftovers."

Still naked, he leans on the dresser, winks at you and tries for suave.

"I could eat right now."

Your brow furrows, and he says, "Get it? I could eat...?"

"I know what you meant." There's that fluttery feeling in your center again, from just the thought of that tongue on your body, the one always brushing his upper lip.

Glancing at the clock, you do the math in your head for how long it'll take before Cherile gets back. Not long enough to really enjoy it. But there's that tongue of his and a lecherous look.

"Fine," you say, feigning it's just a chore you must complete. "Whatever it takes to shut you up."

Though odds are, he'll lift his head to dirty talk your cunt again into contracting around his knuckles, your body limp from the multiple orgasms he'll force out of you while the clock ticks and Cherile drives ever closer.

 It's just like that, too, because he spent twenty-five years learning your body, and the only difference is his human one comes quicker than the jackhammer of a cock he had when you were gods. Back then he’d flip you on your stomach and you would let him, holding back your strength so he could take charge and fuck you. You’re much easier to hold down these days, pinning your arms above your head and grasping your wrists so hard they turn white.

So the sex is faster, not because you’re in some public place about to get caught, but because he can’t help climaxing. This is going to take a lot of practice.

There’s another reason his mortality is a downgrade. Human men were always so easy to please with a throat wrapped around their cocks, fingers deep inside them massaging their prostates, but when it came to rougher play, they didn't heal very fast from the beatings and floggings. Deimos did, skin regenerating quickly, and that’s part of why you stayed with him.

And you stayed because of what he's doing to you now, while you watch the clock. He doesn't let you rest after the first orgasm, or the second, and it's the third that makes you finally push him away to sit up. Five minutes left until Cherile's ETA.

Your knees are too weak to stand up just yet, so you catch your breath, flashing him a tired grin. Deimos doesn’t say anything, just returns the smile, his hand still resting on your knee. Four minutes. You rise and hastily pull on your clothes, eyeing the fire escape. Once you're dressed, Deimos stands to pull you close and kiss you. You used to avoid kissing him. It’s too personal, too sentimental. His kiss is sloppy and his mouth tastes like pussy. 

"You're beautiful," he says with a sigh.

"Gotta run," you say, and you wish you could still teleport, because that fire escape looks unsafe. Swinging your purse over your shoulder, you head for the window. Cherile calls out from the living room, right on time. Deimos wipes his wet lips with the back of his hand and fishes for the gum he keeps by the bed. You crawl out the window and disappear.

 _"I know my son_ , _"_ Aphrodite said _, "and that boy is smitten with you, though I can't imagine why. You're a terrible person."_

 _"He's a war god,"_ you said. Hera and Ares taught you this at an early age. _"War gods can't love."_

 _"Can't or won't?"_  the love goddess had asked earnestly. You snorted, incredulous.

It comes back to you now, Morpheus showing you how panicked Deimos was on the beach, how he tried to stop you, how he cried out,  _"No no no no no!"_ but you charged forward anyway. He had just killed Poseidon. Or Hades did, or Hephaestus. But the real murderer was Xena, that warrior princess cunt with the sword that could deflect fireballs.

You weren't there and didn't know Deimos took great pleasure in his second attempt on the bitch, stuffing down his terror, confident he'd succeed this time with his powerful aunt Athena by his side. But the god’s own folly crushed him in the end, literally. A stupid ugly death for a stupid ugly godling.

"Sorry, Deimos," you say from the window, smirking and not sorry at all. You can’t believe you’re sneaking out like this. It’s another clandestine affair like the one before Pheme's trumpet announced it to the world. Sexy and salacious, like a public relationship could never be. And Deimos gave you four orgasms, like a gentleman. Or maybe he wants something, something more, or he wouldn't have put in the effort. You guess you’ll find out.

 _"We can't love. Just ask Ares,"_  you grumbled, downing another swig of Dionysus' wine.

 _"I'm sorry, Discord,"_ Aphrodite said sympathetically, like her big, dumb, watery puppy eyes could bring back your brother or your son.

Everybody is always apologizing.

Strife’s mouth opens in a surprised grin when you walk in the door, disheveled and barely hiding the truth of your whereabouts. Messy ponytail and rumpled clothes.

"Look at what the cat dragged in," and he says it in a voice as deep as Deimos', because Aphrodite couldn't pop out an entirely different, more handsome spawn. It had to look like Strife. A reverse negative of your son/best friend/roommate/partner. Tan skin and light hair contrasting with Strife's pale face and locks dark as raven feathers.

"Don't even start," you say moodily, dropping your shoes by the door and removing your jacket. He giggles like Deimos does, and it's unnerving sometimes.

"So, are we going to Duke's, or Katie's?"

"I'm exhausted. Let's order in."

Strife chuckles again, and it's irritating you now. He smirks at you knowingly.

"Yes, I had sex!" you confess with an annoyed whine. "If we're going out, I'm gonna take a shower."

"Shower up and get ready, I wanna hear you sing."

You groan, resisting, even though you've already picked a good song in your head. Aphrodite would make fun of you for this new hobby of yours. Ares isn't around to roll his eyes anymore, and you vaguely remember dancing with Strife in a human contest for a piece of the Kronos Stone fifty years ago.  _Two_ ** _thousand_** _and fifty years ago_ , you correct yourself. _We were both dead for most of it._

"I wanna hear a song about Dennis," your roommate teases, thinking you just got fucked by the boring doctor and not Strife's doppelganger cousin. If he only knew.

"Fine," you say from behind your bedroom door, throwing on a robe that isn't Cherile's but is dark and heavy and may have been Dimitri's once. "I just thought of a good one."

The song that pops into your head is from Disney's adaptation of your shitty little brother's life story. Dappled with inaccuracies and nauseatingly saccharine, with Hera as Hercules' doting mother and not the scheming hateful woman you admired, whose approval you used to crave, the movie still has a pretty great story-line about Hercules falling in love with a mortal woman named Megara, who is meant to string the half-god along so Hades can kill him. Then she falls in love with Hercules for real. It's a stupid kid’s movie, but the character's ballad reminds you of a certain someone.

"'I Won't Say I'm in Love,'" you tell him on the way to the bathroom, without thinking.

Strife chuckles, remembering, because he just rented the film along with you.

"Good one, Discord. We'll see if they've got it at Duke's."

"Yeah, we'll see."

If you two get drunk enough, you can sing it together and he'll think it's about Dennis.

At least Dennis lasts longer in bed, and wouldn't say sorry if he didn't.

 

**Author's Note:**

> References Rundown:
> 
> -Takes place in September 1999.
> 
> -Title is a lyric from the song "I Want You" by Third Eye Blind.
> 
> -Discord literally lifts and chokes Deimos in S5E20 of HTLJ, "Fade Out." She manages to tie him to a tree as well, offscreen. It's not clear how old Deimos is in canon, but Discord is clearly more physically powerful. She's not nearly as strong as Ares, though, and in my headcanon it's connected to age.
> 
> -Discord and Deimos were killed by Xena in S5E22 of XWP, "Motherhood." Poseidon was killed when Deimos, Hades and Hephaestus were shooting energy blasts at Xena. She deflected them with her sword, hitting Poseidon and killing him instantly. It's not clear whose blast it was.
> 
> -The reference to the goddess Pheme and her trumpet are a reference to another fanfic that I outlined but haven't posted as of this writing, in which Discord and Deimos try to steal it to become famous, but the plan backfires.
> 
> -Aphrodite is Deimos' mother in my fics, but is his cousin in canon.
> 
> -The two restaurants mentioned are Duke's On Water and Miss Katie's Diner, both real establishments in Milwaukee. I don't know if they were open in 1999, however.
> 
> -Miss Katie's Diner is in my other fics, and Duke's On Water has karaoke night every Thursday. Discord and Strife's tradition comes from one of the fanfics that I first outlined and never posted, involving William Shatner and Jay and Silent Bob.
> 
> -Strife and Discord performed in a dance contest to win a piece of the Kronos Stone in S1E42 of Young Hercules, "The Prize." They were great, but Hercules and his friends still won.
> 
> -Discord says the dance competition was fifty years ago. Twenty-five of those years are how long Xena was frozen. Saying the events of Young Hercules took place 25 years before _that_ is going by Kevin Sorbo's real age and rounding up.
> 
> -Dimitri is Strife's ex-boyfriend.
> 
> -The song ["I Won't Say I'm In Love"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqDaoMtIujs) is from Disney's animated film Hercules. The film came out in 1997.


End file.
